Episode 41: Liz Graver

Tip Jar

Show Notes: 

Liz Graver

Tuesday, 12 November, 2013

There once was a little brown haired girl who loved to roar.  Each morning she would rub the sleep out of her eyes and roar.

“Good Morning,” greeted her dad.

“Rawr,” shouted the little girl until she felt it rumble in her heart.  She smiled and then skipped off to play.

Sitting quietly in the grass, the girl concentrated on the activity she labored on.

Up walked a freckled faced boy who asked, “whatcha doing?”

“Rawr,” yelled the brown haired girl as she happily held out her project.  The boy was un-phased by her undertaking and walked away.

Later the girl saw a group of giggly youngsters gathered around in a circle laughing.  She strolled up to the assembly, edged her way in, and listened as they all chatted.

“What do you think?” asked a girl in yellow and white polka dots.

“Rawr,” hollered the brown haired girl as she laughed.  Some snickered while the rest of the group looked at her with confusion.  But she just hopped away while her hair bounced behind her.

Day in and day out, the roaring continued.  Some wondered if she was angry.  Some wondered if she was silly.  But most didn’t care to stick around to understand the roar.  Until one day she was approached by a curly headed boy.

His shaggy hair covered the tops of his ears as he marched up to the girl in fascination.  He opened his mouth and barely whispered the words, “hello, brown haired girl.”

“Rawr,” screamed the girl in uneasy retort to the squeaky boy she could hardly hear.

“Why do you always roar?” softly questioned the fluffy mass of curls.

“Because all of my favorite things roar,” answered the girl.  “The ocean.  The thunder.  Even the sound of laughter.  Why are you so silent?” countered the spunky girl to the hushed little boy.

“Because all of my favorite things are quiet,” responded the boy.  “A breeze.  The snow.   The warm feeling I feel in my heart.”

The brown haired girl reflected upon the things the boy told her.  For the first time, she meditated on this new way of exchange.  She closed her eyes tight and held her breath nervously.  Then when she was ready to speak, she opened her mouth and almost inaudibly declared, “I like you and your curls.”

“Rawr,” bellowed the boy.

And they both skipped off together.